


Jim's Six Times at Baker Street: 4

by debunker



Series: Such a pity you're not home, Sherlock... But I'll wait. [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Camp Sherlock, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Drugs, Drugs for sex, Gay Bar, Guess what Moriarty's fave headwear is:)), HLV mentioned, Kissing, M/M, Moriarty's Web, Oral Sex, Phone Calls & Telephones, Recreational Drug Use, Sherlock's on a case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debunker/pseuds/debunker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically my brain exploded after TAB and I'm still collecting its tiny bits and sporting a hole almost rivaling that of Moriarty's.<br/>So Sherlock says Moriarty has got acquainted himself with his place and it took him 6 times to do so.<br/>Sounds like a prompt, doesn't it?<br/>This is the fourth time and Sherlock's at a gay bar hunting for the murderous drug dealer. Moriarty can't stay away, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jim's Six Times at Baker Street: 4

Sherlock is at a gay bar. It’s Saturday night, almost 11 p.m. and it’s crowded and the air is heavy and blurred. No smoking inside seems to be just an option. Not that they smoke cigarettes though. This is a tobacco safe place. Nice music is playing, quite pumping, the dj sizes Sherlock up as he passes in front of the his place heading towards the bar full of men waiting for their drinks and dates for tonight: a tall, sleek bloke in black jeans and a slim shirt, upper buttons open deliberately exposing some skin and several pendants, multiple bracelets and rings accentuate the movements of graceful fingers as he lifts his hand and smiles to the barman leaning on his elbows against the bar counter thrusting out his arse for display. Camp, stylish and totally new to the frequent visitors.

Sherlock is scanning the crowd taking care to show himself for good, half-turning his dishy body towards the dance floor, ready for the hunt.

_This is for a case._

Lestrade suggested it mostly for fun knowing Sherlock’s love of disguise and acute observation skills. Catching this mysterious killer of new men he met at this particular gay bar only to steal their online identities later and get access to their personal accounts to hook up with married men and blackmail them later was driving Lestrade almost mad as an apparently easy case turned out to be a nightmare. All victims died of overdose but no drug was ever found in their corpses but every physical proof was there. Sherlock volunteered accompanied by Donnovan’s comments about “danger junkie” and some obvious “I-know-you-are-gay” glances.

Sherlock had to make some research and take some precautions not to be followed by Mycroft’s “Eye of Sauron”.

And here he is. All dolled up for the night on the town.

He gets his Margarita and takes a sip trying to absorb each detail possible. This should be one who is steadily at guard. The one who knows nearly everybody around the place and takes advantage of those who come here for the first time.

Sherlock moves slightly to the music, his eyes with some eyeliner ready to pick the guy. But the guy seems to be quicker than him. There is a light touch at his shoulder and he feels the heat of another body at his side. He turns abruptly and licks his lips with salt stuck to them. The guy who claims his attention can’t hide his pleasure, the pupils dilating involuntarily at the sight of Sherlock’s. The guy is a little bit shorter than Sherlock, a little less camp, dark thick, curly hair a little more ruffled. He has a peculiar face, not really a pretty one, but very sensual: long nose, lusty lips. He is very very thin but does not look fragile. Enthusiastic but clearly experienced. Shirt sleeves rolled up, lower botton is open. Hmmm.

He grabs Sherlock’s forearm and leans closer to yell in his ear as the music is just too loud now.

“Got something you might like.”

Sherlock grins a little taking another sip.

“Is this a question?”

“An affirmation.” The guy’s breath is fresh and somewhat sweet. Weed? He’s much closer now.

He takes Sherlock by the hand and leads him through the crowd to the distant corner. There is a door covered by a black curtain, the access is clearly restricted. Sherlock hesitates a little stopping by it but the guy is totally in control.

“It’s my room”, his lips are almost brushing Sherlock’s and he shows him a small bag of white powder.

“First class shit”, the guy’s fingers slid into Sherlock’s back pocket touching his arse. Sherlock is somewhat aroused and disgusted. And afraid. What is he to do now? He never really had a clear plan, only prepared to act according to circumstances.

The guy pulls him into a kiss, playing with the pendants on his chest. He’s hungry for sex and pretty possessive notwithstanding his boyish appearance.

Sherlock is prepared to do his best for the case, obviously. He needs to get the drug as this is clearly what killed them all. This is an adventurous night and Sherlock is pretty sure he can manage the situation.

The guy pushes him into a dark room which is some kind of his office.

_This is where it all happens._

Sherlock finds himself pinned against the wall with the guy groping him and humming with satisfaction. Sherlock know he is supposed to show some eagerness and starts undoing the guy’s shirt kissing him. This is pretty mechanical and Sherlock’s mind is working feverishly. Is there any real danger for him now? Should he bring the bloke home maybe?

_Oh, hi, Mrs. Hudson. This is the guy I’ve just met and he’s exchanging drugs for sex. Any spare tea for him?_

The guy is clearly pleased with Sherlock’s initiative and opens the bag a little sinking his finger into it and pressing it to Sherlock’s lips.

“A free sample”, he whispers, his eyes are flickering, he’s already quite high himself.

After a second hesitation Sherlock sticks out the tip of his tongue and licks the guy’s finger. The dose is too small to kill him, he’s sure. And then some free coke is always welcome. And this is for the case.

“How did you know?”, Sherlock is trying to gain time and get as much information as possible. He is sure, this is the guy.

“I can dig a junkie right out”, the guy is clearly proud of his eye.

Sherlock looks straight at him, resolute, ready.

_No one deceives like an addict._

The guy pulls out a strange little pipe out of his back pocket and lights it in the middle of his palms. Sherlock watches the fire gleaming in the darkness. It’s almost tantalizing. The music is muffled behind the isolated door. This is a separate world. The guy is clearly one of the owners. Or the only one. The smoke starts to show and the guy gestures to make Sherlock open his mouth which he does. The guy sucks at the tip and then blows the smoke into Sherlock’s mouth, a white sweet stream caressing his palate. This is pinching and somewhat woody and hits Sherlock immediately. He feels he is falling even if he is standing on his feet. The guy drags him closer and pushes his shoulders down to make him kneel.

Sherlock grabs his jeans for stability and it turns out to be a trigger as the guy loses his temper and unzips them in a flash, pulling out his cock and almost pushing it into Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock is a little dizzy and the acute smell of clean washed flesh punches his nostrils. Ok, brace yourself. This is not the first time when you have to satisfy someone for a case. Remember Janine? That was different! Of course, different, she is a woman. Moriarty did the same with Molly. Sherlock was his case. Sherlock thinks of Moriarty in a tight t-shirt and his cock startles a bit.

Okay, now he’s got a job to do.

He grabs the guy cock ready to earn his coke. Cock coke. Okay, here we go…

But suddenly the guy’s cell phone rings making him swear.

“Ffffuck”, he makes a small gesture to Sherlock, “hold on”.

“Yes?”, he’s strangely not that angry now as he hears the voice which Sherlock can’t. Much more calm and almost terrified, tense.

“Got it”, he finished the call and comes back to Sherlock.

“You have to go, sorry”. He puts his cock back in his pants and pulls back.

“I have not even started”, Sherlock is trying hard to hide his relief, an actor in him playing the part. He stands up.

“I know, dear”, the boy seems to want to touch him but changes his mind remembering the call, maybe. “Out little party is over”. He ushers him out, a little hastily and gestures to the security to lead Sherlock out. Sherlock is not trying to resist. He is puzzled and feels it’s an interesting turn.

He is still a little dizzy and goes out to take a breath of fresh air and catch a taxi home. He manages to do so quite quickly.

Once at Baker St. he suddenly feels so exhausted that he can’t make himself take a shower unsure to be able to stay on his feet. He needs it desperately, the memory of the guy’s body is clinging to him. Was not rubbish, except for the fact he was probably the murderer and Sherlock almost sucked him for no good. Yep, the consulting whore. Just a minute on the bed and then he’ll wash himself. Just a minute, just to collect himself. So tired, so taaaaieeee… He feels his body getting heavy and his limbs stiffen, his breath is slowing down, a little too much… It almost feels like an overdose but Sherlock is so numb he cannot think of any solution to it. And then darkness swallows him.

____________________________________

He wakes up bluntly, sitting up in his bed. The morning is fierce, stabs his eyes. He falls back under the sheets and realizes he is naked. But he was not last night. Maybe he woke up later and undressed himself and then got back to sleep. Hmmm…

He feels the inside of his thighs are sticky with something, it feels nasty when he moves his legs, the sheets are glued to the skin. Sherlock really does not want to know how it got there as he is sure he knows what it is.

He leaves the bed and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. First clean your body, then clear your mind.

There is a phone number written with eyeliner on the mirror. “Call me”, it reads as well.

And suddenly Sherlock knows who will reply.

He dials the number only to hear the too familiar voice.

“Glad, you’ve stayed alive. You were suffering an overdose and I saved you, had to inject you with the antidote”.

“Bastard”.

“Oh, don’t say thank you. Hearing your voice is such a delight in itself.”

“You’ve undressed me.”

“Darling, I _had_ to”, Moriarty’s clearly enjoying Sherlock’s cold rage. “To find the best spot for a prick.”

“Seems like you did, I’m covered in your… body liquid.”

“Love, this is _your_ body liquid. You could not contain your delight when I touched you.”

“I don’t believe you”, Sherlock is clenching his fist.

“Well, run DNA tests then. You’ll have a hard time explaining the purpose to the lab assistants maybe but if you really want to know… Anyway this is me who should be complaining a sexual assault. You were so eager to satisfy me orally to learn some secret. I could have taken an advantage but that’s not my style. I only like it consensual. That’s why I saved you from that guy in the club.”

“That was you who called him?”

Silence only confirmed Sherlock’s guess.

“Blackmailing is so much fun. But I know you only care about the drug that kills the naïve boys. I could tell you next time I see you around. I could drop in if you’re in a hurry…”

“Well, you already did last night apparently. How did you get inside?”

“Oh, Sherlock, I did not really _get inside,_ if you know what I mean. Ok. I was your cabbie. Again. I know, boring. But I love the flat cap. You know, we all have our headwear of choice, see? Gotta go now. Still too many people to blackmail today.” And Moriarty finished the call.

Sherlock stays there with his phone in hand, really stirred and repulsed and slightly aroused. Can it be his own sperm? What if it’s actually not? Does he want to know the answer?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Music - Skunk Anansie - Love Someone Else  
> Think of Ben Whishaw when imagining the guy Sherlock meets. I usually do not write original characters but I could not resist this particular pick. Let me know if it worked.


End file.
